Best Party Ever
by padfoot's prose
Summary: We all know Blaine gets drunk at Rachel's party in BIOTA, but what if some other stuff went on before he starting sucking face with the host? Canon-compliant Klaine fluff. Based off Chapter 12 of 'You Had Me At Sesame Street'.


**This is based off Chapter 12: _The Light_ of my story _You Had Me At 'Sesame Street'_. If you enjoy this, you'll probably like that too, so go check it out!**

**Also, this takes place in 'Blame It On The Alcohol' and is canon-compliant as far as I'm concerned. Enjoy!**

**_..._**

"This is the best party ever!"

As Blaine lunged towards him, draping an arm over his shoulders, Kurt had the distinct impression that his poor friend had very little experience with parties. Especially if his premature drunkenness was any indication, because Kurt was sure that when Blaine had downed his second wine cooler, hehadn't been at all aware of just how quickly it'd go to his head.

So, dragging him away from Finn, Kurt tried not to dwell on Blaine's arm clinging to him, Blaine's breaths on his shoulder, Blaine's hip that his own hand was resting on. This was drunk Blaine, Kurt reminded himself. Sober Blaine would never stand this close, lean this hard against him.

And sober Blaine would certainly not murmur, as if it were an errant thought floating through his mind, "I want you."

Kurt stopped, staring down at Blaine, whose amber eyes stared right back up at him, suddenly serious. For a second that stretched out for decades, Kurt was frozen, unable to do anything but let those three little words wash over him in waves of ecstasy, forgetting for just that second that this wasn't real Blaine. This was drunk Blaine.

Then the instant was over, and Blaine's eyes became unfocussed again as he miserably informed Kurt that, once again, "He's just _so tall_."

But Kurt was still stuck in the recent past, his mind whirling and heart hammering as if he alone had downed the contents of Rachel's Dads' liquor cabinet.

"What?" Kurt breathed, desperately trying to bring back the Blaine who'd spoken to him moments before.

"Wha'?" Blaine mimicked, utterly confused.

Kurt didn't move from where he'd stopped, and Blaine pulled away from him impatiently, stumbling forwards a few cautious steps. He teetered to a standstill, realising that staying upright was harder on his own, and looked back at Kurt.

Mind still whirling, heart still hammering, and palms beginning to sweat, Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand, glancing for the nearest escape and pulling him into a downstairs bathroom. The moment they were inside, Kurt let go of Blaine's hand and turned to close the door, moving back towards his friend as Blaine's dark figure gave a sudden wobble.

"Whe'e light gone?" Blaine asked, whipping around desperately, hair everywhere and arms windmilling dangerously close to a shelf of plastic bottles.

Reaching out, Kurt caught Blaine's hands and forced them to his side, stopping his wild spinning. Frowning as he squinted through the darkness, Blaine stepped carefully forwards, so he could see Kurt's pale face.

Slowly, Blaine's gaze crawled up to Kurt's eyes, and he whispered, "Found't."

All over again, time ground to a halt.

Blaine's face filled Kurt's vision, and the feel of his hands and the warmth radiating from his body, so close by that there was barely an inch between them, dominated Kurt's mind. Nothing else existed but the boy standing before him: the boy who was no longer wobbling dizzily, who wasn't muttering nonsense, who wasn't grabbing desperately at everyone in sight. _This_ boy wasn't drunk Blaine at all.

This boy was the one who'd sat beside Kurt on the steps at McKinley, listening to the confessions, facing up to the bullies. The one who'd bought Kurt endless coffees and sat opposite him, knees knocking together under the table. The one who smiled at him time after time as he sung cheesy lines and sought out every excuse to touch Kurt's arm, Kurt's shoulder, Kurt's hand. This was the Blaine Kurt had fallen in love with. This was the Blaine who loved him back.

And, just as _this Blaine_ began to lean in, Santana fell through the doorway.

Sam quickly followed her inside, neither of them noticing that this particular room was taken until Santana stepped on Blaine's foot, making him yelp in pain.

"Oh, hey, Kurt," Sam said casually, as if they were passing in the street. "Can you get out of here?"

Sam had barely finished talked when Santana grabbed him, her lips descending on his as she pulled him against her, still choking out the occasional hysterical, "Kiss me!"

Thrown to the other side of the room by the couple's sudden entrance, Blaine was leaning unsteadily against the wall, staring at Sam and Sanatana with a perplexed expression.

"Come on, Blaine," Kurt called, holding the door open so his friend could see where to go.

Still staring intently at the thoroughly occupied couple, Blaine walked around them and out the door, not looking away until Kurt closed it behind himself.

"Y'ever done that?" Blaine asked, turning to Kurt.

"No," Kurt replied tersely.

"We should try it some time," Blaine said, leaving a very red-faced Kurt in his midst as he staggered back out into the room, slipping between Lauren and Puck as the former screamed abuse and disappearing from sight.

But Kurt didn't care. At all.

Because, somehow, Kurt knew all those things Blaine was saying were real. He hadn't misread the signs, he hadn't been making it up. Perhaps Blaine didn't know it yet, but those feeling were there inside him, hidden beneath the facade that normal Blaine – charming, polite, gentlemanly, dapper Blaine – put up. It had just taken a couple of wine coolers to get him to admit it.

So, when Rachel cried, "Let's play spin-the-bottle!" and a general cheer rose from the room, Kurt joined in, Blaine's final words still replaying in his mind. After all, wasn't it possible that, just this once, fate might intervene in his favour?

Joining the circle beside Blaine, Kurt laughed as Brittany placed a bottle on a stray checkers board, spinning it. The others, now gathered on the floor, seemed to find it fascinating as the bottle rotated on the spot and, despite not having drunk one drip of alcohol, Kurt too was feeling strangely buzzed, still riding the high of Blaine's last words. He cheered as the bottle stopped with its top pointing to Sam and spared Santana a sympathetic glance as she uselessly claimed ownership of her boyfriend, even as he sloppily kissed Brittany.

Next, it was Rachel's turn, and as she spun the bottle, Kurt sensed no impending doom, no hint that the universe had decided that, no, today wouldn't be the day Blaine finally realised how he felt.

Then the bottle stopped and Rachel pointed a finger a Blaine.

Kurt's first reaction was to laugh as he said, "This is outstanding!"

And, really, what else could he say?

Blaine had probably kissed other people before. Kurt wasn't clueless enough to hope otherwise. And, out of everyone here, surely Rachel was the safest bet. She was annoying, she was bossy, she was domineering – everything Blaine was not. Most importantly, of course, she was _female_.

Yet, Kurt felt a spark of jealousy as Blaine and Rachel's lips met. The spark turned into a flickering flame when, almost in slow-motion, he watched Blaine's lips reach out to find Rachel's again, kissing her harder the second time. Kurt wasn't sure if it was just him, or if the cheering around the circle was dying down as Blaine reached up to curl his palm around Rachel's cheek, his fingers burying in her hair.

Now, the jealousy was a bonfire, leaping from twigs to sticks to logs as the kiss continued, continued, continued...

"Okay!" Kurt finally said, clapping his hands to try and get Blaine's attention. "I think we've had enough of that!"

But Blaine's expression as he pulled away didn't seem to agree.

...

Far too many hours had passed before Kurt finally escaped from the crowded basement. As he struggled to pull Blaine up the stairs, only half his strength went into the effort, the other half dedicated to holding back the tears that prickled his eyes.

He felt a bitter sense of somehow having been cheated and, stepping out the front door, shot a glare up at the sky, aimed at whatever cruel force had been playing with him tonight.

Not only had his singular, most perfect moment with Blaine been ruined, but he'd had to spend the remainder of this would-be spectacular night watching as, for the second time now, Rachel sucked face with the boy he'd fallen in love with.

That was the most horrible part, Kurt decided as he discarded Blaine in the backseat of his car. Not that it was tonight, not that it was a girl, but that it was _that_ girl. Up until now, Kurt had always been able to believe that, every time Rachel won, it was on his terms. She'd won the _Defying Gravity_ solo because he'd given it up. She'd won Finn because he'd stopped trying. But Blaine... she'd won him fair and square.

Pulling out from the curb, Kurt stonily ignored the sound of Blaine falling over in his seat.

"-_working as a waitress in a cocktail bar_..." Blaine sung to himself quietly, and despite his anger, Kurt checked in the rearward mirror to make sure Blaine hadn't sustained a concussion or anything serious. But no, he'd somehow managed to pull himself upright and was currently mouthing out the rest of the words, head bobbing along to the tune, eyes closed.

"_-turned you into something new..._"

"Blaine, please be quiet."

The singing cut off when Kurt spoke, and he sighed in relief, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he tried to stay focussed on the road ahead.

The rest of the car trip passed in silence, Kurt breathing deeply at every small noise he heard from the backseat, resisting the temptation to look back.

Blaine was drunk, he reminded himself. He didn't know what he was doing. But, if Blaine had been drunk when he'd kissed Rachel, how could he have not been when he said those things to Kurt?

Kurt hated that he couldn't have it both ways. Blaine either had to be drunk or not. He either had to have meant it all, or none of it. Whichever way it was, Kurt had made no sort of progress tonight. Going to the party had been a disastrous decision.

Finally reaching his house, Kurt pulled into the driveway, noticing that Finn still wasn't home, and was probably still doing his rounds, dropping off everyone else. When the sound of the engine cut off, the silence inside the car became louder, more crushing, and Kurt eventually couldn't take it, turning around to look into the back seat where Blaine still sat mutedly.

"You okay?" Blaine asked and, when he received no response, tried again- "Kurt?"

"I'm fine," Kurt lied, turning away again and opening his door to get out.

Blaine followed suit, and Kurt was glad to see that he wasn't stumbling anymore as he led the way to the house's front door. Both crept quietly upstairs and into Kurt's room, Blaine instantly collapsing on the bed with an exhausted groan.

"Thanks for looking after me," he mumbled into the pillows, then turned his head so he could fix his eyes on Kurt. "I owe you."

Kurt nodded.

"And I meant it," Blaine continued, his brow furrowed as he struggled to get the right words out.

"Meant what?" Kurt asked in feigned boredom, begging his mind not to read too much into the words.

Blaine sat up, his hand reaching out to grasp Kurt's and slowly pulling him closer. He stared at Kurt beseechingly, as if desperately trying to express something, make him understand the things that couldn't be said.

"I want you, now," Blaine whispered, lacing his fingers with Kurt's. Their fingertips brushed together, sending tingles up both boys' arms. "And I meant it tonight. Every time that I said it, I meant it to you. Please know that now, just in case I don't remember in the morning."

And Kurt decided, then and there, that it was possible that Blaine had been right. Maybe tonight had been the best party ever.


End file.
